


Zenith

by pterawaters



Series: Mr. Sandman [9]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Family Fluff, Found Family, Good Parent Jim "Chief" Hopper, Holidays, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters
Summary: The Byers/Hopper/Harrington family puts itself back together again after Hopper's rescue. Or, the one in which Hopper is back from the dead, has to change his name, and is a good dad.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Joyce Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Steve Harrington & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Will Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper
Series: Mr. Sandman [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1527764
Comments: 16
Kudos: 128





	Zenith

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! It's another fluffy family fic in between longfics! The timeline on this one overlaps with the last chapter of [Sleepwalker](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21583837/chapters/51461377), and I would definitely recommend reading that one first!

**_November 1985_ **

After Thanksgiving dinner, Jonathan and Nancy parked Steve in front of the televised football game and went off to go help clean up. Hopper sat in the chair next to the couch, so Steve nodded over at him. "How was Russian prison?"

"Swell," he replied. Nodding toward Steve's wrist, which still held his hospital ID band, Hop asked, "How was the hospital?"

Steve shrugged. "The jello was okay."

Hop nodded and watched the TV as he bit his lower lip. Then he said, "Well, it's good you made it back home. Joyce said it was a close call."

"Yeah, I guess," Steve told him. "I don't really … remember that part."

Humming thoughtfully, Hop let the conversation die down for a few minutes. The game got exciting for a moment, but when a commercial break came around, Hop said, “Your friend Robin kept me company in the hospital for a bit.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve asked, watching Hopper’s face. “I kind of thought El would have.”

“Oh, she was there enough,” Hop insisted. “But Robin told me about how you put school on hold, how you’ve been helping support the family by working full time. Kid, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Steve told him, feeling self-conscious and looking down at his hands. “But I like helping.”

“El says you’ve been helping her with her homework, too,” Hop gave Steve a significant look. “And helped her with some bullies?”

Steve laughed a little, but it hurt his ribs and made him want to cough. “Did you teach her how to put someone in a choke hold?”

Hop pressed his lips together for a moment, eventually asking, “Why?”

“Some assholes were making fun of her on the way home from school,” Steve told him. “I mean, they were little freshmen, but there was like three, no four of them. I think they must have pushed her or something, but when I got there, she was on the biggest one’s back. I had to practically pull her off him.”

Shaking his head, Hopper laughed. “She’s a fighter.”

Looking down at his hands again, Steve said, “Yeah, well, she saved my ass, that’s for sure.”

Hop gave an amused little snort. “Me too.”

Then he went quiet for a moment, and got serious, “Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for being here when I couldn’t be.”

Steve felt his face get a little hot, but he smiled at Hop and said, “You’re welcome.”

They watched the game again for awhile, but eventually Steve got curious. He asked, “So what do you think of the new house?”

Hop shrugged. “It’s fine. Nice.”

“You’re staying, right?” Steve asked him, suddenly concerned that Hop would want to go back to Hawkins. And maybe take El with him. He couldn’t do that. El was part of this family now, and so was Steve. Hop couldn’t break everyone apart. He couldn’t. 

“Yeah, kid,” Hop assured him, reaching over and patting Steve’s knee. “I’m staying.”

Steve nodded. “Okay, good.” He sniffed a little and pointed at the TV. “I mean, none of the others appreciate sports so, you know. It’ll be nice, having you around again.”

With a careful nod, Hop sat back and pointed at the TV. “What d’you think of the Cardinals? Anyone around here root for them over the Bears?”

“Nah. Bears are killing it this season,” Steve insisted. “They’re gonna cream my poor Colts next week, for sure.”

“Five bucks says Colts win,” Hop offered. 

Steve laughed again, wincing at the pain in his chest. “Okay, first of all, I’m not gonna bet in favor of the fucking Bears. You know. On principal. And second of all, I know for a fact all your money is either in this house or tied up in some trust for El to inherit when she turns 18. It was a major topic of discussion around here for a few weeks.”

“Joyce used my money to buy the house?” Hop asked

“Hey, you’re the one who put her in your will,” Steve told him with a shrug. 

Hopper stood up, calling out, “Joyce? You used my money to buy a _house_?”

Steve laughed as Hop went in search of Joyce. After a few minutes, Jonathan and Nancy joined him, and he got to enjoy being snuggled and doted on by his two favorite people.

~*~

Jonathan sat at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of water and trying to calm down. The clock above the stove said that it was close to four in the morning, which meant he’d been sitting here at least half an hour. Maybe longer. He couldn’t remember. 

All he could seem to remember was the way Nine’s body had looked in the dream that had woken him up. It was the same as the way it looked in his memories – disgusting and terrifying. 

And Jonathan had _caused_ it to look that way.

He shivered and gripped the glass tighter in his hands, bracing himself for another wave of nausea before it hit. What he really wanted to do was ask Steve to help him forget, to fuck him or something. But Steve was still recovering, and wasn’t supposed to do _anything_ strenuous for another week and a half. 

And Jonathan missed Nancy. So _much_.

It had only been a day since she’d left.

He dried his eyes with the cuff of his long sleeved sleep shirt and took another sip of water. 

Jonathan heard Hopper coming before he saw him, Hop’s bare feet heavy on the carpeted floor of the hallway, and then slapping on the linoleum of the kitchen. 

The footsteps stopped short, and even though his back was turned, Jonathan could tell Hop was surprised to see him sitting there. 

“Uh, hey, kid,” Hop said, taking a few more steps toward the kitchen table, until he was in Jonathan’s line of sight. “What are you doing up?”

Jonathan shrugged. “Bad dream.”

“Ah.” Hop pulled one of the chairs away from the table and sat down in it. He’d trimmed back his beard and Joyce had cut his hair, but he still looked not quite the way Jonathan remembered him. It probably had a lot to do with the way the t-shirt he was wearing hung off his shoulders, half a size too big. 

Hop looked out the dark window behind the kitchen table and sat silently for a few moments. Then he said, “Sometimes it helps, talking about it.”

Jonathan nodded and wiped his eyes again. “I just…” He sighed, trying to pick out the words he needed. “I keep seeing his face.”

“Whose?” Hop asked, and Jonathan couldn’t tell if he appreciated or resented Hop’s gentle tone.

Jonathan had to take a deep breath before he could admit, “Nine’s.”

After a long moment of silence, Hop asked, “Does he do anything? Say anything?”

Jonathan shook his head. “He’s already dead.”

Hop hummed sympathetically, and Jonathan could feel the careful way Hop watched him. 

Jonathan’s mouth watered as another wave of nausea hit him, but he swallowed it down. “I killed him.”

“Ah,” Hop said, shifting in his seat. “Joyce mentioned something about that. It was a rough fight?”

Jonathan laughed wetly and shook his head. “Not at all. I just...knocked him down. Killed him. Strangled him with my arm.” He looked up at Hop. “Who made that possible? It doesn’t seem like–like _anyone_ should be able to do that, much less _me_.”

“Oh, kid,” Hop said, and he leaned over, pulling Jonathan into a hug. 

Jonathan pushed his water glass away and held onto Hop, like he might drown if he didn’t. He didn’t sob, but his eyes flooded and spilled over and his nose started to run. 

Hop cleared his throat, but he didn’t let go of Jonathan. “War is hell, alright? It’s nasty business, and just because we can do what needs to be done, doesn’t mean we’re not affected by it. Alright?”

Jonathan nodded, drawing back and sniffling, wiping his eyes dry with his sleeves. 

Hop left a heavy hand on Jonathan’s left shoulder. “Fact is, I’d be more worried about you if this _wasn’t_ giving you nightmares.” He sighed heavily and squeezed Jonathan’s shoulder once more before letting go. “First one’s always the hardest.”

“Nine wasn’t the first one,” Jonathan admitted, putting his hands back around his water glass, if just to have something to hold onto. “Killed my boss last summer with a pair of scissors. _That_ was a rough fight.” Still, in a way it had been easier, because Jonathan had been able to convince himself that the mind flayer had already killed Tom. Jonathan just finished the job.

“Jesus Christ,” Hop swore, sitting back in his chair and giving a dark laugh. “You’re definitely your mother’s son.”

Frowning at him, Jonathan asked, “What does _that_ mean? Has my mom _killed someone_?”

“No,” Hop said, shaking his head. “At least, not that I know of.” He got a far-off look like he wasn’t quite sure he was remembering correctly, before shaking his head again. “I just meant, you’re tough like her. Tenacious.”

Jonathan gave Hopper a long look before he got curious and asked, “How many people have _you_ killed?”

Hop shrugged. “Between Vietnam, my time on the force, and all that Hawkins shit, I honestly don’t know. Couple dozen, probably.”

“A hundred?” Jonathan asked. 

“No,” Hop said with a scoff. Then his eyebrows jumped up, “Well…”

With a little smile, Jonathan asked, “A thousand? A million?”

“Only if termites count,” Hop said with a laugh, gently shoving Jonathan’s shoulder. 

Jonathan felt a little chuckle escape him. 

Still smiling, Hop gave Jonathan another gentle shove. “Go back to bed, kid. Try to leave the past in the past.”

“It’s not that easy,” Jonathan said as he stood up.

“No,” Hop said in agreement, shaking his head. “No, it’s not.”

~*~

**_December 1985_ **

“Hey, Byerses,” said Amber Kline as she sat down next to Will and El near the end of first period geometry. “What happened to you guys last week? I didn’t know you were going out of town for Thanksgiving.”

El looked to Will as if she was unsure of what to do. She still didn’t have the hang of telling white lies. Will figured it was all about mixing truth in with the lies so it became believable enough. It reminded him of all those days he’d been flipping back to the Upside Down, but insisting to everyone that he was fine. He was fine. 

“We got in a car crash,” Will told her, showing her the scrape on his arm that was almost healed. “Our mom had to go to the hospital.”

“No way,” she cried. “Is she okay now?”

“Her arm is broken,” El added to the conversation, just as the bell rang. 

Will insisted, “She’s okay otherwise.” He didn’t talk about the fact that Steve was still recuperating at home, or the fact that Jonathan kept giving Steve these looks, like he was afraid Steve might die at any second. 

"You have to tell me everything at lunch," Amber insisted as they left the classroom together. "Oh! And what are you doing this weekend?"

Will looked over at El, to see if she could remember anything he was forgetting. When she shrugged, Will told Amber, "Nothing much. Why?"

"I'm having a birthday party," Amber told them. "I thought it would be fun if you guys could come."

Will smiled, relieved that Amber liked him (or El, or the both of them) well enough to invite them to her party. Nodding, he said, "Yeah, that sounds great!"

"We'll have to check with Mom," El told Will, but she was smiling. "But a party sounds fun."

"Awesome," Amber said with a wide smile. "Well, I'll see you guys at lunch!"

"Later," Will called after her as he and El turned the hallway to their second period class.

With a little smirk, El asked Will, "Think it will be anything like Dustin's birthday party?"

Remembering the way the birthday candles had set the crepe paper decorations on fire, causing everyone to panic, Will couldn't help but laugh. "Let's hope not!"

~*~

El’s first winter after leaving the lab, she spent six weeks outside, hunting to eat, and building fires to stay warm, and hiding. And then she let Hopper find her. Day one was called December 30th on the calendar. It was five days after something called Christmas. 

El’s second winter after leaving the lab, she got to go to the Snow Ball. Hopper put up a Christmas tree in the cabin, and El would stare at it for hours, transfixed by the little lights. He gave her some books and a sweater. She gave him a shape she’d carved out of wood, using one of the knives she found in the cabin. It was supposed to be a rabbit. It looked more like a cow. Hopper said he loved it anyway.

El’s third winter after leaving the lab, her name was no longer Hopper, but Byers. They lived in a new house in Illinois, and she finally had her dad back after 136 days apart. Two weeks before Christmas, Joyce picked El up from school and said, “I thought maybe you’d want to go shopping with me. We can pick out presents for all the boys.”

“I don’t have any money,” El told her, but Joyce smiled. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie. We’re finally all together under one roof. I think we can probably afford to splurge a little bit.”

“Splurge?” El asked, unfamiliar with the word.

Joyce told her, “It means to spend a little more than we normally would. Indulge ourselves.”

“Oh.” El thought about this for a few minutes as they approached the shopping center. “I think I know what we should get Will.”

“Yeah?”

El nodded. “His friends in art club keep talking about using pastels, and Will feels left out because he doesn’t have any.”

“That sounds like the perfect gift, sweetie,” Joyce said, her eyes getting all shimmery.

“What about Jonathan?” she asked. “I don’t know what he likes, besides Steve. And Nancy.”

Joyce laughed. “Yeah. He does like them and not much else. Music. Photography.”

“Steve wants a jacket,” El remembered. “Last time we went to the arcade at the mall, he almost bought it. But then he wanted to save his money for school.”

“Let’s buy it for him, huh?”

El grinned. Christmas shopping was already kind of fun. 

On Christmas Eve, they watched old movies about the holiday on TV. El curled up on the couch next to her dad and mom, Steve and Jonathan squished together in the chair, and Will laid out on the ground. The only lights in the room were from the TV and from the lit Christmas tree. El held her dad’s hand and fell asleep before the last movie was over. 

On Christmas Day, Jonathan made pancakes and they all sat around the table, eating them and talking about their upcoming trip to Hawkins. Then they opened presents. 

El got a couple of things, but her favorites were the two-way radio from Will and the necklace from her dad. (The sneakers she got from Steve were pretty bitchin’, too.)

El’s favorite present to give was the one she made for Joyce. It was a bracelet made out of four differently-colored strips of leather. Will’s art club teacher had helped her braid it right and do the rivets that held it all together. She pointed and said, “The red one is me, and the yellow one is Will. Steve’s is blue and Jonathan is green. See? It’s all of us. All your kids.”

Joyce had started crying and hugged her tightly, but it felt like a happy cry, so El figured she’d done alright. 

After presents and hot cocoa, everyone got dressed and the four kids finished packing. At the door, Joyce pulled a funny hat down on Steve’s head, telling him, “Drive carefully, okay? And switch off with Jonathan when you get tired.”

“I will, Mom,” he said, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

The road was dry and the sky sunny and there were so few cars out on the road, El felt like they were the only people in the whole world. “This was better than the last trip we took,” she said as they entered Hawkins.

Will snorted and Steve said, “Oh, yeah. Let’s not have another one of those road trips for awhile.”

When they got to the Wheelers’ house, El was the first one to the door. Before she could even ring the doorbell, Mike was there, opening the door and catching El in a big hug. 

That night, El was supposed to sleep in Nancy’s room, and her brothers were supposed to sleep in the basement. Instead, Will and El both went to Mike’s room, whispering with him until they all fell asleep, El in Mike’s bed and Will in the bunk over his. Steve and Jonathan both went into Nancy’s room, sleeping there with her. 

In the early morning, Jonathan shook El awake and brought her to the sleeping bag on Nancy’s floor, where she fell back asleep. When she woke up later, Nancy was there, reading a book. 

“What is that?” El asked, thinking the cover looked interesting. 

Hanging over the side of the bed, Nancy showed her the cover. “It’s a book about Chicago. That’s where Steve and Jonathan and I are moving next year, if everything goes to plan.”

El climbed up into the bed and let Nancy show her the pages she was most excited about. She wondered if she and Mike were going to move somewhere after they were grown up. El had no idea where she would want to go, or what she would want to do. But, Nancy was happy, so El couldn’t help but smile with her. 

She held onto Nancy’s arm and said, “I don’t have any sisters in Illinois. Just brothers. I wish you lived with us, too.”

“Hey, whenever you need a sister, I’m there.” Nancy told her. “Call me. Whenever you want. I mean it. Okay?”

“Okay,” El nodded, sharing another smile with Nancy. 

“And hey, if I end up marrying Jonathan, or someday far, _far_ in the very distant future you end up marrying Mike, then we’ll really be sisters,” Nancy said with a little laugh. 

El laid back on Nancy’s bed and said, “Dad and Joyce have been talking about getting married. What happens then?”

“For them? Not much will change,” Nancy assured her. “It’s a stronger commitment. It’s harder to break up after you get married. That’s why you should be really sure before you do it.”

“But why do it in the first place?”

Nancy sighed. “It makes it easier to take care of each other. All the grownups recognize what it means to be married to someone.” She gave El a frustrated look. “Unfortunately for me, it’s against the law to marry more than one person.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Say it, sister,” Nancy said with a grin, then she held up her hand like she wanted a high five. El gave her the high five and a laugh.

Nancy’s mom knocked and then opened the door, finding El and Nancy giggling together. “Good morning, girls.”

“Morning, Mom!”

Nancy gave El a look that said something, but El didn’t know what, which made it funny enough to start laughing again. 

El hugged Nancy, and decided that Christmas was her favorite time of year.

~*~

**_January 1986_ **

Steve was halfway through washing his face in the shower when the bathroom door opened and closed again. “Hey, occupied!” Steve called out over the sound of the shower. 

“It’s just me,” Jonathan called back. “Mom’s threatening to instill a five minute policy on the shower.” 

“Why? It’s not our fault Hop decided to renovate the other one,” Steve called back, rinsing off his face.

He heard the shower curtain pull back and felt Jonathan step into the tub with him. “You mind sharing?” Jonathan asked, wrapping his arms around Steve.

With a laugh, Steve turned around. “I guess,” he said, brushing Jonathan’s hair back from his face and kissing him. “Only ‘cause it’s you.” Steve kissed him again. 

Jonathan gave a pleased hum, before saying, “Ah, but if you keep kissing me, it’s not going to save any time.”

“More fun, though.” 

Steve stole one more kiss before grabbing his conditioner and making room for Jonathan to get under the water. He put a dollop of the stuff in one hand and used the other to close the bottle and drop it back into the rack where it belonged. Working the stuff into his hair, he watched as Jonathan rinsed off and started washing. 

Unlike Steve, Jonathan just barely fit all the way under the shower head without having to stoop. Steve told him, “I can see why Hop wanted to redo the other bathroom, though. This house was not built for tall people.”

“I just thought he had too much time on his hands,” Jonathan replied, turning to face Steve. He grinned as the water washed the shampoo from his hair. “Not much work available for the still-legally-dead.” Picking up the bar of soap, Jonathan held it out toward Steve. “Wanna wash my back?”

Just the thought of running soap-slick fingers over Jonathan’s skin made Steve groan with frustration, his blood running southward. “Babe, you have no idea how much I can’t do that right now.”

He leaned forward, gently guiding Jonathan out of the way before rinsing the conditioner out of his hair. “Anyway, I’m all done. Have at it.”

Stepping out of the shower and onto the bathmat wet and dripping helped Steve calm down a bit, and he dried off a bit before wrapping the towel around his waist and starting in on his hair. He had it combed and halfway blow dried by the time Jonathan turned off the water. 

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Jonathan grabbed his towel and stepped out of the tub, drying off. After putting the towel around his waist, he picked up his watch from the counter and put it on. Smirking at Steve, he said, “Still got fifteen minutes before I have to start making breakfast.”

Steve set down the hairdryer and stuck his brush back in his drawer. “We can do a lot with fifteen minutes,” he replied, catching Jonathan and giving him a nice, deep kiss. "C'mon, let's go to our room."

~*~

**_February 1986_ **

“No! Come on, baby,” Jonathan muttered, turning his key in the ignition again. The engine didn’t turn over and roar to life. It just sat there, lifeless. “Fuck.”

He looked at his watch, calculating that he only had twenty minutes before his shift was supposed to start. Why did he think he had enough time between school and work to process a roll of film? It was a stupid risk and now even if he ran, there was no way he’d make it in time. 

He got out of the car and slammed the door shut. He dug around in his pocket, looking for change so he could call work and let them know he wasn’t going to make it. 

Then he remembered. He’d spent his last few quarters at school that day because El had forgotten her lunch at home. Groaning, he put his head down on the slightly sun-warm roof of his car. He guessed he was walking home. 

And probably losing his job. 

“You okay?” someone said, and Jonathan looked up to see Jenna Dean standing over at her car, two spots over. Her short hair was just as blonde and just as spiky as it had been when he met her on the first day of school, and her clothes were black, but they looked more comfortable than what she used to wear. 

He sighed before telling her, “Yeah. My piece of shit car won’t start, but I’m fine. Thanks.”

“You need a jump?”

Jonathan shook his head. “The battery’s fine. It’s the spark plugs. I knew I should have replaced them last week.”

“You want a ride somewhere?” she offered with a shrug. “I’m not doing anything right now.”

“Are you serious?” Jonathan asked her, thinking she looked a lot like she was just being nice. 

She shrugged again and said, “Yeah, why not?”

“Think you could drop me at the Save-A-Lot on Columbus?” he asked, grabbing his bag out of the back seat and then opening the trunk to grab his work vest.

"Yeah, sure. That's actually on my way home," she said, unlocking her car. "C'mon. Get in."

Jonathan sat in the passenger seat and buckled in, saying, "You're a life saver."

"I take it you work at Save-A-Lot?" she asked, nodding at Jonathan's vest as she started her car. 

"Yeah," he told her, not really sure where to take the conversation. "It's an okay job. They don't mind scheduling me evenings and weekends."

Jenna pulled out of the school parking lot, turning east. "I mostly just babysit."

At the mention of babysitting, Jonathan smiled. "My boy–" Shit, he was slipping. "My _brother_ is a good babysitter. Most of the time he's a waiter, but there's this family across the street he babysits for sometimes. He says it's good money, because the parents are desperate for a night out." God, he's babbling. Why is he babbling?

With a laugh, Jenna nodded. "They totally are."

They chatted a little more about class, and then about music. Jenna wasn't as ignorant of good music as Jonathan had assumed, and while their tastes didn't completely overlap, there were some similarities. "Have you heard the new Husker Du album?" Jenna asked as she pulled into the Save-A-Lot driveway. 

"No," Jonathan said, shaking his head. "Is it any good?"

"I'm absolutely in love," she said with a sigh. "Maybe I'll lend it to you. You know, if I ever see you around school. At lunch or something?"

Jonathan could tell she was joking, and had no ill will toward him. He asked, "Will your friend try to ask me out again?"

"I'll tell her to cool it," Jenna insisted. "See you tomorrow?"

"Sure," he said with a careful smile. "Thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome."

Jonathan went into the store, almost ten minutes early. He took a minute to call the house, sighing with relief when Will picked up. "Hey, get someone to pick me up from work at nine, would you?"

"Car died?" Will asked.

"Yeah."

Will made a disappointed noise. "Mom is gonna make Hop drive us to school until it's fixed."

"What's so bad about that?"

Hissing into the phone, Will said, "His music _sucks_."

Jonathan laughed, because it was really, really true. "See you later."

~*~

Jim sat in a restaurant booth, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. Looking at his watch again, he sighed with frustration. Owens was almost half an hour late. He probably wasn't coming. Bastard.

Steve stopped by the table, two pots of coffee in his hands. "Hey, you want a warm-up?"

Sighing again, Jim pushed his mug to the edge of the table. When Steve tried to pour from the orange-topped carafe, Jim insisted, "No, regular."

"Hop, it's like eight at night," Steve said, giving him a look that reminded Jim so much of Joyce that he had to remind himself for the millionth time that Steve wasn't actually her son. "You're not gonna sleep."

"Just pour the damn coffee, kid," Jim told him, frowning until Steve shrugged and poured from the brown-topped carafe.

"Fine, but if Mom asks, I'm totally ratting you out to her," Steve said with a smirk, leaving before Jim could call him out for being an asshole.

Ten minutes later, when Jim's hands were shaking a little, he refused to admit to himself that Steve had been right. He wasn't going to sleep. 

And that's when Owens finally showed up, sliding into the booth across from him. "Hey. How's it going?"

Frowning, Jim told him, "You're late."

"Hey, I've got a lot on my plate," Owens told him with a friendly smile. "We're _still_ trying to figure out how far the chicken plant jail thing goes. Intel's starting to think there might be more of them dotted around the country."

"Jesus," Jim said, shaking his head. "How the hell did they even get in?"

Owens shrugged. "We're working on it."

Ah. That meant _classified_.

"Anyway…" Putting his briefcase up on the table, Owens opened it and pulled out a large manila envelope. "Here we go. Brand new papers, as ordered."

Jim took the envelope and opened it, pulling out a stack of papers. He read the top one out loud. "Certificate of Marriage? What?"

Shrugging, Owens said, "You asked me to build you a believable identity, Chief. This is what the experts at the company came up with."

Jim couldn't quite get his brain past the whole "marriage" aspect of it to read the whole thing. He shuffled it to the back, finding the next paper was a birth certificate. "Owens?" he asked as he read it. "Why does it say that my name is James Richard _Byers_?"

"It was either this, or try to acclimate the kids to a new last name. We figured this was more expedient. Less likely to rock the boat," Owens said, raising his finger at Steve when he passed. "Hey, could I get some of that decaf, young man?"

"Uh, sure," Steve said, heading behind the lunch counter, then coming back with an empty mug and the orange-topped carafe. "Cream and sugar's over there," he said as he pointed to the far end of the table.

"Thank you, sir," Owens said, and the thing that Jim really hated was how sincere his gratitude seemed.

God, he couldn't fucking believe this. Shuffling through the next few papers, he found new birth certificates for Jonathan, Will, and El, each of them naming _him_ their dad, rather than Lonnie. "There's no way this is gonna work," Jim told Owens. "What if one of the boys tells someone about their real dad?"

"Keep them out of trouble, and it's not going to be an issue," Owens insisted, taking a sip of his coffee. Then he pointed to the papers. "Take a look at the one in the back."

Paging past El's birth certificate, Jim found a Private Investigator license certificate, and a card paperclipped to it. "Oh," he said, running his fingers across the card. "I thought you wanted me to stay out of law enforcement."

Owens rolled his eyes. "We both know that's not going to happen. This way," he pointed to the license, "you can still investigate, but you'll have a lot fewer people asking you questions about your past."

Jim sighed and took the card out of the paper clip. He showed it to Owens, "Do I _really_ have to introduce myself as Jim Byers?"

With a smile that made Jim want to punch his face in, Owens shrugged. "I mean, I suppose you can ask people to call you whatever you want. But your death was national news. You introduce yourself as Hopper, and people connect it to the fire at Starcourt? The whole house of cards comes crashing down. My bosses might just ask me to remove you to protective custody."

"Jail," Jim said flatly. "It's _this_ or jail?"

"Pretty much," Owens agreed, taking another sip of his coffee. "And don't you think your three kids would rather have you at home with them?"

Catching sight of Steve standing at another table, taking orders, Jim growled at Owens, "Four. I've got four kids."

He sighed and put the papers back into the envelope, closing it with the metal tabs so nothing would fall out. "I suppose you want me to say thank you."

"You know, it wouldn't hurt," Owens said, still so calm and friendly. 

Jim hated his guts, and he really hated needing him so much.

~*~

**_March 1986_ **

On Wednesdays, Steve always worked an early shift at Big Dan's, getting off at 4 in the afternoon. It was good, because Jonathan never worked Wednesday nights either. If Jonathan didn't have homework, they'd often call Nancy, and then go do something fun, like see a movie, or take Will and El to the arcade for awhile. 

When he got home one Wednesday afternoon in March, he found everyone except Joyce (who was still at work) sitting at the dining room table. "It's a week early for my surprise birthday party," Steve said as he came into the room, putting his hands on Jonathan's shoulders, "but I'll take it."

"Steve," Jonathan said, pushing out the chair next to him. "Can you sit?"

"Why?" Steve asked, suddenly not in a very good mood anymore. Still, he sat down. "What happened?"

Now that he could see Jonathan's face, Steve could see that he was smiling. He slid a piece of paper over to Steve. "Read that."

"Dear Mr. Byers, We are pleased to offer you…" Steve looked at the letterhead, noting it was from the University of Illinois. "We are pleased to offer you a position in the graduating class of 1990. You got in!"

"I got in!" Jonathan nodded, letting Steve pull him into a tight hug.

Hopper cleared his throat and said, "That's not all." He passed a big envelope across the table to Steve. 

This one had Steve's name on it. "Oh, shit," he said, his heart hammering in his chest. In his haste to get the envelope open, he ripped it right down the middle. The letter on the inside (luckily not ripped) looked just like Jonathan's. "Dear Mr. Harrington, We are pleased to offer you a position in the graduating class of 1990." He looked around the table at everyone, completely shocked. He pushed the letter at Jonathan. "This can't be right. You read it."

Jonathan laughed and took the letter. He read it for a few seconds, then said, "You got in, Steve!”

“Holy shit!” Steve cried, pulling Jonathan into another hug. “We both got in!”

Will flipped through one of the information packets, and he asked, “So, are you guys gonna live in the dorm, or what?”

Steve met Jonathan’s eyes. “I mean, obviously we’re going to live together somewhere, right?”

“Right,” Jonathan said, with no hesitation. “But the dorm? How are we gonna fit our bed into a dorm room?”

Steve thought this over for a moment before saying, “That’s a good point. “

Will pushed a magazine-looking booklet over the table to Jonathan. “They’ve got floor plans for all the dorms. It looks like they’ve all got single beds and shared bathrooms.”

“I mean, it would be kind of a fun way to make friends,” Steve said, “but what about when Nancy wants to spend the night? There’s no way we can all fit on one of those little beds.”

“You could get an apartment,” Hopper suggested, pulling the magazine away from Jonathan. “I bet you could get a one bedroom for less than what it would take to put both of you up in the dorm.” He flipped through a few more pages. “Yeah, these are expensive.”

“When is Nancy supposed to get home?” Steve asked, because Jonathan was better at keeping track of that sort of stuff. 

Jonathan looked at his watch. “She should be home studying now. It’s not quite dinner time there yet.”

Steve grinned. He raced Jonathan over to their room, picking up the extension next to their bed and dialing it. Jonathan dropped down on the bed next to Steve, hanging on him as Steve dialed. 

Nancy’s mom answered the phone, so Steve said, “Hi, Mrs. Wheeler. This is Steve. Could I please speak to Nancy?”

“Oh, Steve. How lovely to hear from you,” she said. “Hold on a moment. She’s just upstairs.”

While they waited, Steve moved the mouthpiece of the phone off to the side so he could kiss Jonathan. He got a few kisses in before Nancy answered. “Hi, Steve! What’s up?”

“Jonathan’s here with me too,” Steve told her, lining up the phone so they could both hear and speak. “We have good news.”

“What’s your good news?” she asked, the noise on her end shuffling around a bit. 

Steve looked over at Jonathan before saying, “I got in at UIC!”

“You did! Oh my god!”

“And there’s more,” Steve told her, nodding at Jonathan.

Grinning, Jonathan added, “I got in at UIC, too!”

“Oh my god!” Nancy cried. “We did it! We’re all going to Chicago!”

~*~

**_June 1986_ **

On the last day of school, everyone in first period geometry got a brown envelope containing their report card. El looked at hers nervously. The one she’d gotten back in January had been pretty bad, and even though she’d been working really hard, El was scared that this one would be just as bad. 

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Will asked her, obviously pleased about his own report card. 

“What did you get?” she asked, snatching the card away from Will before he could keep it from her. “You got all As?”

“Except for PE,” he said, pointing to the B-plus at the bottom of the card. 

El rolled her eyes at him. “No way my grades are that good,” she insisted. Handing Will the envelope, she said, “Here. You open it!”

With a huff, Will took the envelope and opened it. His face was blank as he read it, but El could feel the happiness and pride coming from him. 

“I did good?” she asked. 

“You did really good,” he insisted, showing her the card. “You got an A-minus in geometry and Bs in everything else! Except, you got an A in gym!” Will narrowed his eyes at El. “How did you do that?”

El grinned. “I had a good coach,” she said, thinking of the early-morning jogging she and Steve has started doing when he wanted to get his lungs back in shape after winter was over. 

“Well, it looks like the tutor Mom and Dad got you really worked, too.”

El smiled and swapped cards back with Will as the bell rang. “Think they’ll buy us ice cream like they promised?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Will told her. “Your grades are so good, they might even get us a cake.”

“I love cake!”

Will laughed. “Yeah, me too.”

~*~

"No, it's like this," Hop said, lining up a strip of shingles on the roof boards. He held it in place with one hand and used the other to press the nail gun to the strip, firing a nail through the shingle and into the wood. "See how it's lined up?"

"Yeah," Steve told him, watching Hop set three more nails so the strip was secure. He lined up the next strip of shingles before gesturing for the nail gun. "Here, let me try." 

Shooting the nail through the shingle into the wood was both exhilarating and satisfying. 

"That's it. You're picking this up pretty quick," Hop told him, waiting for Steve to finish that strip. Then he took another strip of shingles and layered them over the first two strips. "See how I've got it centered?"

"Oh, so it protects the place where the two other ones meet," Steve noticed.

"Exactly." 

Hop watched Steve work for a minute before asking, "You're sure you've never built anything before?"

Steve shook his head. "Just in eighth grade shop class."

"Your dad never helped you build a treehouse or anything?" Hop gave him a strange, almost pitying look.

Steve handed the nailgun back before wiping the sweat off his face with his shirt. He shook his head. "My dad was too busy screwing his secretary to bother." Steve scoffed. "And besides, I doubt he would even know which end of a hammer to use. He always paid people to do stuff like this."

With a concerned frown, Hop asked, "He teach you how to take care of your car? Change the oil? Replace the wiper fluid?"

Steve reached for the next strip of shingles then scooted back to place them. "No, but Jonathan showed me. Last summer. We–" Steve laughed, wiping his brow again. "We got oil all over the place because I wasn't paying attention. It was kind of a shit show, but now I know not to make that same mistake again."

Hopper chuckled, scooting closer to Steve and handing him back the nail gun. "I used to get distracted at really inopportune times," he said, waiting for Steve to finish shooting nails before he spoke again. "It was usually a pretty girl that distracted me."

Steve felt his face get hot as he remembered that afternoon. It had been sweltering out and Jonathan had taken his shirt off as he puttered around under the hood of Steve's car. Steve had spent so much time watching the way Jonathan's muscles moved under his skin that he'd missed a few key words in his instructions.

"Ah," Hopper said with a little nod, like he knew what Steve had been thinking. He handed Steve another strip of shingles. After working a few moments in silence, Hop said, "So, Joyce never told me why you left your parents' house. Did they…" He gave a little huff. "Did they find out about you and Jonathan?"

Steve shook his head. "I mean, they had enough of a problem with Jonathan when they just thought he was my _friend_." He sighed and set the shingles down, lining them up carefully. "The way my dad always talked about…" Steve pressed his lips together, making sure the angles of the shingles were just right. "He probably would have tried to kill me if he found out. Better I was dead than anything other than _normal_. Anything other than what he wanted me to be.”

Hopper hummed sadly. "Some people have really fucked up priorities."

They worked for a few minutes in silence, until Steve finally admitted, "I sent them the address here." He handed Hopper back the nail gun, tip pointed away from both of them. "Back in September. They never bothered to use it."

"It's their loss," Hopper insisted, putting the next few nails into the roof in rapid succession, almost aggressively. "I just…" He narrowed his eyes off into empty space. "Do you know how much I would give for just one more day with Sarah? To think your parents just _gave up_ on you?" He frowned, and Steve suddenly thought he might actually kill Steve's parents if Steve asked him to. "Anyway, like I said, it's their loss and I bet they end up regretting it. You're a great kid, Steve."

His face felt hot, and Steve knew it wasn't just the summer sun. "Thanks, Hop." He lined up the next strip of shingles for Hop to nail into place. "You're a great dad."

Hopper didn't look at Steve, but there was definitely a smile hidden in his beard. "Let's get this finished. It's supposed to rain, day after tomorrow."

"Sure," Steve said, reaching for another strip of shingles and setting it in place.

~*~

**_August 1986_ **

The building Hopper brought El to wasn't marked in any special sort of way. Still, something about it reminded El of the lab in Hawkins. Maybe it was the dark color of the brick. Or the odd shapes of the pillars holding up the awning over the front door.

"We don't have to do this," Hopper said as he parked his truck. 

El gave him a long look before saying, "Yes, we do. I have to know."

Hop let out a long, slow breath before nodding. "Okay, kid. Okay. Let's go."

When they got to the front door, it opened easily, and the lobby had a couple of potted trees that looked really suspiciously green for how little light there was in here. El had been trying all summer to get the geranium Amber gave her to grow, but so far she wasn't having much luck. El stepped closer to one of the trees, but before she could see how they'd done it, the elevator doors opened and Hop said, "Come on."

El followed him, and they got off the elevator on the third floor. Hop led the way to a door that said, "Communications, Inc." There was a keypad on the door, but Hop pressed an intercom button next to it. 

A voice said through the speaker, "State your name and purpose."

"Jim and Eleanor Byers," Hop said, and El could tell he was still a little uneasy about using a name other than Hopper. "We're here for a meeting with the director."

The door buzzed and Hop opened it, ushering El into the office beyond. Down the hallway, a man stepped out of one of the offices, calling out, "Down here, please!"

El followed Hop toward the room, and when they got there, she saw that the man was the same doctor who had come to the house after Hopper's "death" and given Joyce the papers that said El could stay with her. She thought she remembered that his name was Dr. Owens.

"Welcome!" the doctor said, his happy demeanor not quite matching the grim determination she could tell he felt underneath. "Come on in! Have a seat! Chief," he said, nodding to Hopper. Then he nodded at El, "Young Miss Byers. It's good to see you both again."

"Hello," El told him, taking the seat he pointed to on the other side of the wide desk from his chair. The doctor looked to her dad, but Hop had assured her on the way over that this was El's meeting. He wanted her to do the talking. She asked the doctor, "Do you have the information I wanted?"

Owens turned his attention to her, his mannerisms nervous, but his underlying emotions calm. "Uh, yes," he said, pulling a folder out of a drawer and setting it on top of the desk. "But like I said, I've only been authorized to give you this information as part of a trade."

El nodded. She'd come here expecting this. "What would you like to trade?"

Pulling a photograph out of the drawer, Owens set it face down on the desk and slid it across to El. "We'd like you to find this person for us."

Turning the photo over, El found it was a grainy black-and-white picture of a man taken from across a busy street. She pointed to the man at the center of the photo and asked, "This is the person?"

"Yes," Owens told her.

El looked up at him, watching his face as she asked, "What has he done?"

"Our sources indicate that he's a Russian operative," Owens told her. "The name he goes by is John Zelnick."

"He owned the chicken processing factory," El remembered.

Owens laughed. "Smart as a whip, this one," he said to Hopper. 

"You can't find him yourselves?" Hop asked Owens, to which the doctor shook his head.

"Unfortunately, no. We're afraid he might have left the country with valuable information. If we can stop him before he delivers that information to his bosses in Russia, our country will become a much safer place."

El wasn't quite sure about that claim, but she didn't honestly care all that much about the safety of the country, aside from what it meant for the safety of her family and friends. What she did care about was sitting in the folder under Owens' elbow.

Touching the photo with both hands, El closed her eyes. Without a mask blocking light from her eyes and the sound of static muffling her ears, it was difficult to find the Inbetween, much less cast herself out far enough to find the man in the photograph. Finding him made a sharp pain in El's head, and she winced, but pushed past it. There he was. 

"He's walking through a train station," El told Owens. "The people are speaking…" She shook her head. "A language I don't know. There's a big sign."

"What does it say?" Owens asked.

El shook her head, wishing she had Will here for this. He was better at making the words swim around less. "Gare doo…" She shook her head, listening to the people around Zelnick. "Nord? He's getting on a train."

"What does the sign above that train say?" Owens asked her.

Starting to tire, El forced herself further away from Zelnick. It hurt and made El feel dizzy, but she managed to read it, "Berlin."

"Perfect," Owens said, and El took that as her cue to drop out of Inbetween.

Her dad handed her a few tissues, which El put under her nose. Owens pushed the folder over to El at the same time he picked up the phone on the desk. "We got it," he said into the phone. "Train, leaving Paris imminently, bound for Berlin."

El took the file and opened it. At the top was a picture of Nine stapled to what had to be a dozen pages of information about him. It had his birthdate. His mother's name. Lots of information about tests he'd been involved in. On the third page, it said Nine had been eight years old when he'd first started showing up in the scientists' dreams. He was nine when he agreed to kill the caged cat they put in front of him. He'd made it bash its own head in. He was fifteen when he held the head of security's daughter hostage until they let him escape. He'd made her shoot herself anyway.

Saddened, El closed the folder. When she looked up, Owens was watching her. "Does this satisfy your curiosity?"

Looking Owens dead in the eye, El told him, "I want to know about the others."

"You'll have to trade more targets," Owens warned her.

Nodding, El said, "I'll do it. But…"

She looked over at her dad, who asked, "What?"

"I'll need a tub," she told Hop, before turning her attention back to Owens. "Maybe not as big as the one in the Hawkins lab, but somewhere to float. I can find anyone you want, in the bath."

Nodding, Owens said, "We could– we could set something up _here_ , I suppose?"

El shook her head. "No. At home."

Shaking his finger thoughtfully, Hop said, "We do have an unfinished basement. With enough…" He smiled at Owens. "With enough _financing_ , I could build it for her. Nice and quiet. No one would know."

Owens smiled back. "If you guys hold up your end of the bargain," he said, "I'm sure financing this project won't be an issue."

Standing up, El stuck her hand out at Owens. "It's a deal."

His amusement actually matching his nervous laugh for once, Owens stood up and shook El's hand. "It's a deal."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting!
> 
> Next up is another long shot, "Lodestar." Remember to subscribe to the [Mr. Sandman](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1527764) series to get all the updates!
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://pterawaters.tumblr.com/) and [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/pterawaters).


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